The best laid plans of mice and UNCLE agents
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya need some stress release. Pre-saga


Solo exited Alexander Waverly's conference room with his partner after sitting in on a meeting that should have lasted a half hour at most. Instead, thanks to others present who insisted upon questioning and challenging the Old Man, the meeting went on for nearly two hours.

The partners trundled off to the Commissary to get some caffeine in their systems and found it closed as it was being sanitized after one of the lab techs had contaminated it.

He'd left a vial in his lab coat and when he removed it to sit and have his lunch, the glass tube fell on the floor and broke. A noxious smelling smoke filled the room, driving everyone out. It was nothing harmful, but the odor remained, hence a good scrubbing was in order.

The food that Cookie had just put out for lunch had to be tossed, making him even grumpier than usual.

"Let's go to the gym and work off some of this tension," Napoleon suggested.

Illya nodded his approval and followed after his partner..

The gymnasium was closed as well; the floor was being refinished.

"Aw hell, let's go to our office at least that won't be closed," Solo groused.

Upon arrival, much to their surprise, the pneumatic doors wouldn't open and Napoleon picked up the house phone in the corridor, calling Security.

"Sorry Mr. Solo, but there's been some electrical problems with a few of the doors. Maintenance is working on it right now. Estimated repair time is about an hour."

"Tsk,"Napoleon clicked his tongue."Thank you." He hung up the receiver.

"I think it's time for a drink; we have nothing pending. Masque Club or that Club Celebrity?"

Illya shrugged his indifference, then changed his mind."I vote we go to Chang's. I would rather eat as am hungry."

"You're always hungry. We can eat at the club." Napoleon added. "How about the Masque...it's closer."

"Fine," Illya gestured with his hand towards the door, "After you my friend."

They exited headquarters only to find the Masque Club down the block was closed for refurbishing.

"Why wasn't I notified of any of this?"Napoleon groused." And why didn't you know Illya; you always have the jump on these things."

"I do not know," he shrugged." So now I presume you want to go to the Celebrity?"

"Yes," Napoleon was beginning to get annoyed."

"Fine. You drive." Illya was cranky at this point as well and didn't feel like dealing with traffic.

They walked back to headquarters down to the secure garage and picked up the silver convertible. Driving across town, they spotted the neon sign of Club Celebrity calling to them like a beacon.

They parked the car in the lot, which seemed surprisingly empty and upon reaching the front door, there was a notice taped to it.

" **Closed by order of the City of New York."**

There was a man leaning against the building, perusing a copy of the Daily News.

"Pardon me," Illya asked. "Do you know why the club is closed?"

"They got caught hosting illegal gambling in the back rooms. The prosecutor's office is connecting it to the mob. Look, there's an article right here." He pointed to the headline.

" **Local Club with Mob ties shut down.** "

"Thanks," Napoleon said. He and Illya walked back to the car, not saying a word. Though the agents had only stopped in there a few times since it opened, they were surprised they'd missed that little goings on. Neither man chastised themselves for it….hey, things happened sometimes. At least they weren't there when the place was most likely raided. Waverly wouldn't have been happy about that.

Illya was finally getting his way as they now went to Chang's. They heaved a sigh of relief to find their favorite Chinese restaurant was open for business.

Napoleon and Illya, welcomed by an always enthusiastic Chang, were quickly were seated in their usual booth at the rear of the restaurant near the kitchen. This gave them access for a quick escape if it were ever needed. The owner was in the know when it came to taking care of his two favorite customers and kept that back booth reserved for them.

Menus were unnecessary as they knew what they wanted and ordered the Pu Pu Platter, along with egg drop soup, green tea and baijiu. Rice wine was a distilled beverage with an alcohol content greater than 30% similar in color and feel to vodka, and that of course agreed with the Russian.

The platter was usually considered an appetizer, but Chang knowing Kuryakin's appetite, made double the portions and turned it into a more that sufficient entree, even for lunch.

It had just about everything to please their palates, with spare ribs, chicken wings, chicken fingers, beef teriyaki, skewered beef, fried wontons, crab rangoon, fried shrimp, shrimp toast, and egg rolls. On top of all that, there were also two bowls of pork fried rice set on the table for both of them.

Napoleon passed on using chop sticks and stuck with regular utensils, though most of the food was on skewers.

They dug in, remaining quiet until the stress level began to diminish.

"I was thinking," Illya pointed his chopsticks at his partner. "The discussion at the meeting today about Waverly insisting his agents give more than 100% is actually possible."

"How so? By working harder? We already do that," Napoleon asked.

"Well if you think of it in mathematical terms I can prove my hypothesis."

Napoleon was feeling better now and decided to open the door, so to speak as he'd had several helpings of rice wine. "Be my guest and enlighten me tovarisch."

"I was wondering about those who said they give 103%. How did they arrive at that number? I think I have devised a way to prove their claims. Now if you assign a numerical value to each letter of the English alphabet, that being 1 through 26, think of it this way…"

"H-a-r-d-w-o-r-k is the equivalent numerically to 8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 which equals 98...let us say 98 percent. K-n-o-w-l-e-d-g-e is 11+ 14 +15+ 23+ 12+ 5+ 4+ 7+ 5 and equals 96 percent."

"Illya where are you going with this?"

"I am almost finished, please indulge me just a bit more Napoleon?"

"Continue then." Solo started to work on his egg drop soup.

"Thank you. Now if you take the word a-t-t-i-t-u-d-e, that becomes 1+ 20+ 20+ 9+ 20+ 21+ 4+ 5 which equals 100 percent. However, b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t is 2+ 21+12+12+ 19+ 8+ 9+ 20 and adds up to 103 percent!"

Solo was beginning to smile in earnest.

"Now, as to those in the meeting who were doing their bit of ass kissing today. A-s-s-k-i-s-s-i-n-g is 1+ 19+ 19+ 11+ 9+ 19+ 19+ 9+ 14+ 7 which is 127 percent. So one can conclude with mathematical certainty that while hard work and knowledge can get you close, and attitude will get you there, it is bull shit and ass kissing that will put you over the top."

Napoleon burst out laughing. "Tovarisch, you are a genius."

"No not genius, though I do have extremely high IQ."

Solo shook his head; no matter how smart his partner was, sometimes he couldn't see the forest through the trees.

Still that was okay, as Illya Kuryakin was on the ball when needed and that was what counted in Napoleon's book and that was no bull shit or ass kissing...


End file.
